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Thunderturds
Note: The author apologies to all Thunderbirds fans out there. Cast: Alan Tracey Gordon Tracey Jeff Tracey John Tracey Parper Scott Tracey The Hoot The Mechanic Virgil Tracey Int. Tracy Island, Day Jeff Tracey: Sons, We've just recieved an urgent distress call from a remote island in the Atlantic Ocean. A man is trapped under a layer of rubble at the pottom of a deep pit filled with poisonous scorpions. A large hurricane is also approaching shortly this afternoon. Virgil: You mean here or on the island. Jeff: On the island. Virgil: Although we're also technically on an island, so-- Jeff: On the island in the atlantic ocean on which a man is trapped under a layer of rubble at-- Gordon: Father, sorry to interupt, but I feel this conversation is wasting precious time. Jeff: You're right, Gordon. Sons, get to your stations. Thunderturds are go. Alan: That was a bit abrubt, wasn't it? Jeff: I said, Thunderturds are go! Alan: Yes father. The Tracy brothers run to various toilets, which retract into the walls and proceed to dress them in shit splattered uniforms. Scott: These uniforms sure could use a wash. Virgil: Tell me about it. The toilets arrive at various aircraft made entirely of shit, and are lifted into their cockpits by robot arms. A countdown follows, after which the aircraft take off. Int. Thunderturds, Day Gordon: Did any of you think that distress call might have just been a prank call? Alan: No, why? Gordon: Well, I mean what are the odds of having that many threats to your survival on the same island as you? Virgil: Gordon, take the advice of a proffetional statistician-- Alan: Wait, ''you're a''' proffetional ''statistician'? Virgil: Yes, as a matter of fact. Anyway, the odds of having that many potential threats to your survival in any given moment is directly proportionate to the consistency (in pascals) of the next turd he who doubts said odds will do. Virgil's Law. Gordon: You just made that up! Virgil: I know. That's why I called it Virgil's Law. Loud squelch Gordon: Uh, Virgil, I think I just crapped my pants. Virgil: And what's the crap's consistency? Gordon: Sort of, uh, squishy. I'd say at least 10 pascals. Virgil: Then those are the odds. Gordon: But probabilities have to be expressed as ratios! 10 isn't a ratio! Scott: Hey guys, look. We're here. A small island can be seen out the Tracy brothers' windscreens. Scott: That's funny, Thunderturd 1's scanners aren't picking up any life signs. Gordon: Well I mean that guy was supposedlyburied under rubbble in close proximity to poisonous scorpions. Scott: No, I don't mean human life signs, I mean '''any '''life signs. There are no scorpions, no birds, not even any plant life. The island's completely lifeless. Alan: I say we should go in and check it out. Virgil: FAB. Taking Thunderturd 2 down for landing. Ext. Island, day The Thunderturds land on the island. Their pilots get out. Gordon: This feels wierd. Virgil: Gordon, I assume you haven't changed your pants yet. Gordon: No. Virgil; Then you shouldn't need me to fact check the odds of this being a prank. Alan: (pointing to a distant tower) Look, a building! Scott: Let's check it out. Virgil: FAB. Ext. Mysterious tower, Day Alan: It looks pretty deserted. Gordon: Further evidence of this being a prank. Virgil: There's a door. Let's go inside. Int. Mysterious tower, Day Alan: Does anyone have a flashlight? Loud Squelch. Gordon's pants begin to glow. Alan: Wow, dude, what did you eat?! Gordon: Prunes genetically modified with glow worm DNA. It saves bringing a flashlight. Alan: I think I'll stick to GM free thanks. Scott: Shhh. Get down. Alan: Why, what's-- Scott claps his hand over Alan's mouth and points to a security guard armed with a rifle standing on a stairwell. Virgil: (whispering) Gordon, I won't admit this was a prank, but something wierd is definately going on here. Guard: Hey, that's funny. There's a light down there. Gordon: (whispering) Crap. Alan: '''That's' why I eat GM free. Virgil: (whispering) Alan, be quiet! Guard: Hey you! Stay where you are! Virgil: See what you've done, Alan? Alan: Me? It was Gordon's mutant prunes that gave us away. the guard cocks his rifle Guard: You're coming with me, buddy. And don't you try anything funny. Alan: Hah. You wish! Alan attempts to roundhouse kick the guard in the head, who blocks his kick and sweeps his standing leg. Guard: I said '''don't try anything '''funny. Scott: Alan, just do as he says. Guard: That's sound advice, kid. I'd listen to it if I were you. Alan: (sighs) Fine. Virgil: So what is this place anyway? Some kind of evil lair? The Hoot: Yes, actually. Well technically it's the vacation property of a wealthy share holder from Cumberland, England. I just make sure I move out before vacation season. Virgil: You know Hoot, squatting isn't a good look for a supervillain. The Hoot: Virgil, if your standards were any lower, you'd see that squatting is merely a more economical alternative to land tenure. There's nothing embarrassing about that, is there? Virgil: What are you playing at, Hoot? We recieved a distress call from this island but our sensors detected no life signs here. The Hoot: All will be revealed in a moment. But for now, I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine. Tracey brothers, meet the Mechanic. Mechanic, meet the Tracy brothers. Mechanic: Greetings, my prisoners. I am told you are aware of the Hoot's plot to steal the designs of the Thunderturds so he can discover where the gas tank is to pour sugar into it. Scott: All too well. Virgil: I don't know what's worse, the Hoot's obsession with childish pranks or the fact that you don't just skip to the point and tell us what's going on here. Mechanic: You will find out soon enough, I can assure you dear Virgil.' Virgil: How did you know my name? Mechanic: I heard the Hoot talking to you before. Anyhow, the Hoot has asked me to take you to my privately owned auto repair shop orbitting the planet to keep you out of the way while he humiliates you and your father with a barage of clichéd practical jokes. At my shop you will become my aprentices, helping to repair damaged spacecraft until you become journeymen, at which point you will continue working at my garage until you settle down at a nice retirement villiage in Launceston, Australia. Gordon: You mean we have to work until we're so old we have to be put in a retirement villiage? Alan: That's '''gotta '''be illegal. Mechanic: Like my father used to say, Alan: if you let legalities control your life, you'll end up like Auntie Englebert. Now, enough chit chat. We're going to my garage. Hoot, is the teleporter ready? The Hoot: It's ready, Mechanic. Mechanic: Then I believe, dear prisoners, that we are ready to leave. This way. The Mechanic leads the Tracy brothers up the stairwell to a room with a large metal disk on the floor in the centre. Virgil: You know, you could have at least shown a bit of taste when designing the machine that would lead us to our doom. Mechanic; I would have, if the Hoot hadn't designed it. I assure you, when we reach my end of the teleport your asthetic sensibilities will be much relieved.